I met my husband approximately five months after my first marriage.
While this may sound scandalous, the story of how we fell in love has less to do with adultery and more to do with how the universe occasionally enjoys forcing you to take a detour.
Kenny and I met at my cousin’s going-away party in September. Kenny and my cousin’s new boyfriend were roommates, and Kenny was childhood friends with both my cousin and her brother. It didn’t take us long to find that we both adored the same author after striking up a chat. Without realizing it, we had separated ourselves from the other partygoers clustered around the tiny bonfire in order to discuss our other common interests.
Not only were we both keen readers, but we also shared a taste for horror films and an obsession with the same television show. We were both extremely intoxicated, which made it easier for me to tell him about my marriage.
My marriage ended before we received our wedding photographs.
In April of that year, in front of the most significant people in my life, I vowed to love and adore my new spouse for the rest of my life.
Even as I spoke, I was aware that I had some misgivings. But I didn’t understand how far off track our relationship had become until our honeymoon, when the reality of “till death do us part” struck in.
One month after returning from our post-wedding celebration, we began discussing couples therapy. The next month, we began a trial separation, and by July, I was in tears during a consultation with a divorce attorney, trying to make sense of the fact that my marriage had ended before we’d ever seen our wedding photos.
To cope with the humiliation and anguish, I resolved to have as much fun as possible. For a divorced woman in her twenties, this meant hooking up with as many men as humanly feasible. This desire for a succession of pleasant, no-strings-attached flings prompted me to approach the bearded Stephen King fan on a random September evening.
I was attracted to him
However, as previously stated, the universe enjoys a good chuckle, and although I had no intention of seeing Kenny again, I found myself dragged back into conversations with him in the weeks that followed. First we communicated via Facebook Messenger, then via text, and then we began to hang out.
By Christmas, we were in a committed relationship, and my planned age of hookups came to a premature end.
Now, 12 years later, I reflect on how different my life would have been if I had stayed at home to grieve my failing marriage rather than actively seeking enjoyment.
Never in my plans was to marry my rebound, but things could not have worked out better. In addition to being married to my best friend for seven years, we also share three amazing children.
I wasn’t expecting this life when I got married in April 2010, but I have to admit that the harrowing detours were well worth it.